


some people like to talk (but i'm into doing)

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dubious Consent, Love Potion/Spell, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-22
Updated: 2013-08-03
Packaged: 2017-12-20 21:21:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/892000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even though Stiles didn’t mean to accidentally dose Derek with a love potion, he didn’t really mind having to show Derek some appreciation and affection.  Derek deserved some nice things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In spite of the title, which is from "The Big Bang" by Rock Mafia, there is no actual "doing" in the fic. Also, it's not really a conventional love potion? 
> 
> Please excuse my lazy writing and shoddy short scenes. Just pretend it's to build up the hopelessness. Since it's not completely chronological, it might be a bit confusing.

> It’s the sound of his dad flushing the toilet that nudges Stiles out of sleep. He grumbles unhappily and tries to bury his face into his pillow. It didn’t work, because something firm and warm was in the way. Stiles gave the pillow part up as a lost cause and just snuffled into the space between Derek’s neck and shoulder. Derek’s arms tightened behind his back and pulled him in closer. Stiles patted at Derek’s side lazily. 
> 
> His dad’s footsteps passed by his room, pausing near his door. Stiles hoped he wouldn’t come in, because he had no explanation for his dad that would excuse Derek’s presence in his teenage son’s bed 
> 
> After a moment, the footsteps started again and faded away in the direction of his dad’s room. Stiles let out a quiet sigh of relief. Derek made a sleepy quizzical noise, brushing his nose against Stiles’ temple.
> 
> Stiles hushed him with a placating hum. “Go back to sleep, Derek.”
> 
> Derek made an acquiescent noise, and Stiles felt his muscles relax more onto the mattress. The warmth Derek gave off was too much, but Stiles didn’t say anything. He just basked in the comforting slowness and silence of the early morning. Stiles gently placed a hand on Derek’s chest, feeling his heartbeat thrum and letting it lull him back into sleep.

* * *

“Scott, you have got to help me!” Stiles whispered loudly into his phone. He threw a glance out his window, but nothing has changed outside. There was still a large shadow beneath the trees that marked the edge of the forest. Two red eyes—an alpha’s eyes—stared back at him unblinkingly. 

“Wh—Stiles? What’s wrong? What happened?” Scott’s voice was worried, but he also sounded distracted. 

“I don’t know, man. Something’s up with Derek.” Understatement of the year, but Stiles never imagined that something like _this_ would’ve happened. “He was thirsty earlier, so I gave him a sip of some juice. Then he started freaking out.” Okay, so Stiles wasn’t exactly telling the truth. He didn’t really give Derek _juice_ so much as something he brewed. 

It was supposed to be a power-strengthening potion, according to the book that Deaton gave Stiles. It was a simple thing, requiring only a few ingredients and minimum chanting. Stiles didn’t think he could’ve gone wrong with it. 

But apparently he did, because Derek’s reactions to the potion did not seem related to strengthening his power at all. 

(Luckily Stiles didn’t taste test the potion earlier.) 

Who knew what the potion would actually do? 

“Stiles, calm down. What did Derek do?” Scott’s voice was growing louder, his concern for Stiles quickly evolving into anger at Derek. 

Stiles looked outside the window again, but this time, he couldn’t see Derek or his shadow. He quickly lowered the blinds and stepped back from the window. “He suddenly came really close to me, way past my personal space bubble, and he freaking _sniffed_ me! What the hell? I thought it was just him scenting me, since we joined his pack only recently, but then he didn’t pull back!” 

There was a pause of silence on the other end of the phone. Then, “Stiles, did you just wake up from another wet dream again? Because I thought we agreed that you won’t ever tell me your weird sex fantasies.” 

Stiles flailed. “What? No! This wasn’t a wet dream. Scott, shut up and listen to me.” He took a deep breath and honestly explained, “I think he’s having some side effects from the potion I gave him.” 

“Stiles!” Scott yelled. “You’re not trying to poison Derek, are you? He’s our alpha now! You said so.” 

“I wasn’t trying to poison him, okay? It was supposed to be a power-boosting potion, but he’s acting really strange.” Stiles squeezed his eyes shut guiltily and admitted, “I think I messed up on the potion.” 

Scott didn’t say anything at first, but when he did, Stiles was relieved they finally had something resembling a plan.

“I think we should go see Dr. Deaton. And bring Derek along too. We’ll try to see what you gave Derek to drink.” 

* * *

> Stiles did not say anything as Derek tried to stealthily scoot closer to him. The movie playing on Derek’s TV was blaring on with explosions and gunshots. The bowl of popcorn that Stiles microwaved sat on the table in front of them, more than half way empty already. 
> 
> Stiles watched out of the corner of his eye when Derek glanced at him, trying to see if Stiles noticed and would say something. When Stiles did neither, Derek had a little happy grin, making him look like a kid. Stiles had to resist a grin himself, thinking Derek adorable. 
> 
> It didn’t take long for Derek to muster up courage to continue acting sneaky. After a car chase in the movie, Derek yawned unconvincingly and stretched his arms up. Stiles had to stifle a laugh and decided to make things a bit easier for Derek and relaxed a bit into Derek’s side. 
> 
> By the time Derek wrapped a hand around Stiles’ shoulder, Stiles had dropped a hand casually onto Derek’s thigh.
> 
> Neither of them said anything, and the protagonist on screen kissed his girl.  

* * *

Deaton was giving Stiles a judging look. He was judging him so hard. 

“What you’re saying is that I have to make love to Derek? Or he has to make love to me? But there is no love. No affection erection.” Stiles threw his hands up for emphasis. Scott was too busy making gagging noises and weird faces at Stiles behind Deaton’s back to laugh at him. 

“Mr. Stilinski,” Deaton interrupted calmly. “Showing Derek affection does not necessarily mean you have to ‘make love’ to him, with feelings or lack thereof.” 

“What does that even mean—‘show affection?’” Scott wondered aloud. 

“Good question, Scott, my boy.” Stiles said. “But do I have to do that? Show affection, I mean. Isn’t there someway I can stop Derek from touching me and staring at me and stalking me without having to give up my virtue? How do I stop the potion’s effects?” He looked earnestly at Deaton, silently telling him to give Stiles the solution to the problem of Derek accidentally ingesting a love potion. 

“I’m afraid that I cannot tell you, since I don’t know how you changed a power-boosting potion into a love potion. There’s simply no way of knowing for sure how much affection would stop the potion.” Deaton said. 

Scott made another disgusted face at that. And Stiles? 

Well, he was getting rather desperate at this point. 

“What about time? Time heals all wounds, cures all, blah blah blah. Is there a time limit on love potions? Do love potions have an expiration date?” 

Deaton shook his head without a word. 

Scott made a sympathetic noise, and Stiles could only groan to himself. 

By the time Scott and Stiles decided to leave the animal clinic, Derek had already found Stiles and was waiting outside for him. By the steady stare he was aiming at Stiles, Stiles could tell that the love potion did not expire, as he had hoped. 

Scott stepped protectively in front of Stiles, but Stiles patted him gratefully on the back, silently telling him that he should stand down. It was okay. Stiles could handle this. The situation wasn’t that bad. They already knew what Stiles had to do. All he needed to do was… 

Show some affection to Derek. 

Stiles slowly edged closer to Derek, who only blinked owlishly at him. He seemed to be completely ignoring Scott. He watched as Stiles cautiously raised a hand. 

Derek’s stare unnerved Stiles. Stiles hesitated with his hand right above Derek’s shoulder. After a few seconds with nobody saying anything, he brought it down and awkwardly patted Derek on the shoulder. 

The strangest thing happened then. As much as he tried to mentally prepare himself for the touching, Stiles never thought to expect what Derek would do in response to Stiles’ ‘affections.’ He didn’t think he would get to see a tiny, happy smile tugging at the corner of Derek’s mouth. 

Stiles turned to Scott to see his reaction to this, and Scott was gaping with his mouth open. Derek took advantage of Stiles’ slight distraction and grasped Stiles’ shoulder, mirroring Stiles’ hand on his shoulder. 

“Uh, Derek, buddy. What’s up?” Stiles used his other hand to pat at Derek’s hand that was holding him. 

“Nothing.” 

Ah. Same old Derek. Curt answers and all. At least some things could still be relied on. 

Derek’s smile disappeared by the time Stiles focuses on his face again, but Stiles could still see a weird glimmer in his eyes. Stiles felt a bit guilty. (He felt bad that Derek drank a love potion, but Stiles didn’t intend for that to happen.) For Derek to be satisfied by so little a gesture, Derek must’ve been touch-deprived. 

And with everything that’s gone on with the alpha pack, Derek deserves a little affection. 

Stiles made up his mind then. “It’s gonna be okay, dude. I’m going to help you.” 

From that moment on, Stiles took to his task of showing Derek affection with dedication, if not with gusto. 

When he woke up in the mornings with Derek sitting on his computer chair like a creeper, Stiles merely ruffled Derek’s hair while yawning tiredly. Fortunately, Derek never followed him into the bathroom, but he always somehow managed to get into Stiles’ Jeep and go with him to school, holding hands all the way. 

Incidentally, Stiles now knew how to do a lot of things single-handedly. Holding hands with someone during most of your free time tended to do that to a person. 

Sometimes, when Stiles was sure that no one was watching, he snuck out of school during lunch to hang out with Derek in his Jeep. Derek usually lurked in his bedroom after school let out, and Stiles didn’t mind throwing a leg over him when doing homework on his bed. Derek seemed to sense Stiles’ discomfort and never laid on Stiles’ bed with him. 

Though Stiles was okay with physical contact, he hadn’t really initiated any other affectionate gesture besides holding hands. This would probably explain why Derek had yet to be cured of the love potion. 

Perhaps it was time to step up the game. 

* * *

> Derek was sitting on his bed after Stiles drove to his loft after school. This made things a bit easier for Stiles, but nonetheless, Stiles’ heart still pounded nervously in his chest. 
> 
> Derek didn’t say a word as he watched Stiles walking toward him. This silence would have unnerved him usually, but Stiles didn’t know what he would do if Derek spoke just then. Probably change his mind in what he was going to do. 
> 
> When Stiles finally reached Derek, he said, “Please don’t get weird,” and pushed Derek’s unresisting shoulders down onto the bed. There was a confused but pleased look in the tilt of Derek’s head when he looked at Stiles. Derek’s hands cradled Stiles’ hips gently. 
> 
> “You—“ Stiles began uncertainly. “You don’t seem to be getting any better, Derek.” 
> 
> Derek didn’t say anything. 
> 
> “I don’t know what to do. Am I not showing you enough affection?” Stiles asked. 
> 
> Derek shook his head in confusion, but Stiles knew it wasn’t a no to the question. 
> 
> “But Derek, you’re still affected by the potion. No matter how much touching we’re doing—affection I’m giving you—you still always look happy to see me instead of your old scowling self.” And Stiles was starting to miss that. 
> 
> He didn’t think he would. Stiles didn’t miss the bruises he’d get whenever Derek thought slamming him into walls would force Stiles to help him. He certainly didn’t miss all the troubles that a surly Derek would drag them into. 
> 
> But Stiles did end up missing the snarky replies that Derek would make whenever one of the other werewolves made a dumb comment. Stiles missed the weird jokes that Derek made with his weird sense of humor. And he definitely missed Derek’s genuine laughs during pack bonding. 
> 
> Stiles didn’t expect to miss all this when he found out Derek drank a love potion of all things. Now the potion made Derek act all out of character, and though he may smile happily when Stiles touch him, it stung to know that it was the work of the potion and not actually because Derek likes Stiles. 
> 
> It stung because Stiles found out that he actually likes Derek. 
> 
> “What should I do, Derek?” Stiles whispered. 
> 
> Derek’s hands on Stiles tightened. His reply was just as quiet as Stiles’ whisper. “Nothing, Stiles. You don’t have to do anything.” 
> 
> Stiles sighed. His hands trailed down from Derek’s shoulder onto his stomach. Stiles watched Derek’s chest move up and down as he breathed. “You don’t actually mean that. If you were in your real, regular state of mind, you would not say that.” Stiles dug his fingers into Derek’s shirt. 
> 
> Then he pulled Derek roughly. 
> 
> “Don’t you get it? This is you under the influence of a love potion.” Stiles yelled. He was suddenly so angry he didn’t know what he was going to do. “This isn’t the real you, Derek. I don’t know what to do to help you.” 
> 
> “Just touch me.” Derek said gently. “It’s okay, Stiles. It’s going to be okay.” 
> 
> “You don’t know that.” 
> 
> “I do. Stiles, I do know that. You know why?” Derek leaned upward, pressing his forehead onto Stiles. “Because it’s you.” 
> 
> Derek pressed his hand against Stiles’ cheek, softly. “You’re going to make everything okay, because that’s what you always do. Stiles, even if I’m not in my right mind, I know that. I know I can trust you. I know _you_.” 
> 
> Stiles looked away. He couldn’t look into Derek’s eyes, and Derek allowed that. Derek moved his head so he could speak into Stiles’ ear. 
> 
> “Stiles. It’s going to be okay. We’re going to be fine.” 
> 
> Stiles swallowed roughly and grabbed Derek into a fierce hug. 
> 
> “Please be right.” He said.

* * *

It was weird, Stiles decided. He didn’t really know how to show affection beyond holding hands and hugging. Neither of which was helping. And between his dad and Scott, there wasn’t much need for Stiles to have more ways to show affection. 

He was never in a relationship before, never kissed before and definitely never had sex before. And even if he had, Stiles wouldn’t be comfortable having sex with Derek when Derek is clearly not in a state to give consent. 

And that was why Stiles was trying (and failing) to google ways to show affection to Derek. 

Derek, who was currently lounging on Stiles’ bed with a book, asked, “Are you nearly done yet, Stiles?” Which is another way of saying he’s bored. 

Stiles sighed in resignation. “Yeah. There’s nothing that really helps.” Just a lot of sex that Stiles was not ready to have with Derek.

“Come over here,” Derek demanded. 

Stiles did not appreciate that tone, and he sent a glare Derek’s way. The only thing Derek did in response was open up his arms for a hug. Stiles rolled his eyes and went over to hug him. 

“Really, Derek, really? Still with all these demands.” Stiles lost his breath when Derek gave him an extra hard squeeze with his huge arms. “Seriously man. You’re lucky you’re pretty.” 

Somehow, Stiles could tell that Derek was smiling.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Made a tiny--very, very tiny revision and format changes in the previous chapter, but it in no way affects anybody's understanding of the story. This is turning out longer than expected, so I'm actually having a third chapter. And I know, the ending of the chapter is very abrupt and out of the blue.
> 
> Thanks for your patience so far!

Even though Stiles didn’t mean to accidentally dose Derek with a love potion, he didn’t really mind having to show Derek some appreciation and affection.  Derek deserved some nice things. 

This didn’t mean that Stiles couldn’t feel the hopelessness creeping on him. He just didn’t know what to do. He could see Scott’s concerned looks whenever Derek dropped him off at school. 

Stiles sat behind Scott as usual and dropped his head onto the desk. Quietly, so no one else could hear except for werewolves, he muttered, “Seriously, what does Deaton mean when he said ‘affection?’ I’ve been giving Derek affection! A lot of affection! Different kinds of affection!” 

Stiles glanced up at Scott to see if he would say anything, but all Scott did was shrug. 

Lydia rolled her eyes at Stiles. Apparently he wasn’t quiet enough. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Stiles, but I’m pretty sure I don’t want to know.“ She curled her lip. 

Though Stiles wasn’t really hurt by her comment, he gave her a wounded look. She didn’t seem to fall for it at first, but then her look softened. 

“Whatever you’re talking about, nice compliments wouldn’t hurt. Declarations of affection can be charming.” She sounded a bit wistful for a second, and Stiles suddenly realized that he no longer gave her as many compliments and “declarations of affection” as he did before. 

He had somewhere along the way stopped greeting her with a “You look beautiful today” or a “Your hair is perfect and wonderful as always” or even the “You just brightened up my day.” 

Now it was simply a “Hey Lydia” with a cheeky smile—a smile he usually directed toward his dad and _friends_. 

Stiles couldn’t help but blurt out, “Lydia, when did we become friends?” 

She turned toward him then, and her eyes were as dark and beautiful as ever. She smiled at him. “When you admitted you needed my help.” She paused for a moment, racking up Stiles’ tension, and continued, “when you treated me like a person instead of some unattainable prize to be won.” 

Stiles gaped at her. He didn’t have time to reply however, because she turned away and the teacher finally settled down the class. 

Her words left him bemused, wondering when he lost track of his own feelings. It wasn’t too long ago that he thought of some revisions to his ten-year plan to woo Lydia. Now it seemed that he should scrap the plan entirely. 

But he couldn’t really think about that right now. It wasn’t important anymore. 

What he needed to focus on was what she told him before. About what affection should include. 

Compliments. 

Declarations of affection. 

Why was Stiles such an idiot?

* * *

> The blood on Derek’s cheek was still wet, even though the wound it came out of already healed. The fact that the wound was gone didn’t stop Stiles from rubbing gently at the blood with a wet towel. Maybe it wasn’t good to treat freshly healed skin roughly. 
> 
> (Yeah, Stiles didn’t really buy that excuse either, even if it’s from himself.) 
> 
> Once the blood was wiped clean, Stiles told Derek to stay put on the bed and immediately went to Derek’s bathroom to wash the towel. When he returned, he saw that Derek was changing out of his ripped and bloodied shirt, another casualty to a supernatural fight. 
> 
> At the sound of Stiles’ reentry to the room, Derek turned to face him. Derek’s eyes focused on Stiles’ face intently, and Stiles felt nervous. 
> 
> Then he realized why. 
> 
> His face was flushed for some reason. He was embarrassed, and he didn’t know why. Stiles couldn’t look Derek in the eyes, but when he tried to look elsewhere, his eyes ended up looking at Derek’s chest. 
> 
> It was grimy in some places, where blood and dirt dried together in areas. Nevertheless, this didn’t detract from Derek’s fine physique. The shape of his pecs, the dip between his muscles, and the small spatters of hair leading down—they were all too distracting to Stiles. 
> 
> Stiles tossed the towel at Derek. “Gosh, clean yourself up. No one wants to see that.” 
> 
> Derek huffed a laugh at him. 
> 
> “Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up, dude. Just because your body is like a Greek god’s.” Stiles complained jokingly. 
> 
> Then Derek joked, “You love my body.” 
> 
> And Stiles couldn’t help laughing. Derek made a joke, and it wasn’t that funny. But hey, at least the guy tried for once. 
> 
> (And maybe what Derek said had a grain of truth, and Stiles was trying to hide it from himself just a tiny bit longer.)

* * *

After school ended, Stiles dragged Derek to the animal clinic, saying that he needed to ask Deaton about something. But when he confronted the vet about Lydia’s comment about affection, Deaton gave him an unimpressed look. 

“I never said it was just physical affection.” 

Stiles threw his hands up, exasperated. “I know that, but you could have elaborated.” He threw a glare at Deaton for emphasis. 

Derek wisely decided to stay out of the conversation. 

“Stiles,” Derek said sternly. “I realize that you’re just a teenaged boy with raging hormones, but you should know better than to assume that.” 

Stiles gave him a sullen look. 

Derek patted Stiles consolingly on the back and tried to help out. “He’s a teenager. His physical actions can’t get any more genuine than that.” 

Stiles turned a glare on Derek. 

Derek revised his opinion, “I mean, werewolves don’t necessarily talk to show affection like humans do. We take into consideration a person’s feelings in their scent and their gestures and bodily expressions toward loved ones.” He sounded a bit awkward, as if unsure how to express werewolf attitude into words. 

What he said made Stiles pause for a moment, just like what Lydia did earlier that day. But this time, instead of thinking about what counts as affection, it made him think about what she said about when they became friends. 

She basically meant that they became friends when he actually treated her like a person—a genuine person with her own worries and concerns but also with her own strengths and abilities. 

Stiles was pretty sure that he had yet to see the genuine Derek, considering he was under the influence of some weird, wacko love potion that Stiles brewed. But he was seeing a side of Derek that could maybe, _just possibly_ be a real side of Derek, one that he would show to someone he loved. 

(Not that Derek actually loved Stiles, what with the love potion…) 

And Stiles wondered what Derek saw in Stiles in return. Could he smell reluctance in Stiles? Could he sense Stiles’ ambivalent feelings toward touching Derek? 

Stiles didn’t know what Derek read in his body language and his gestures. It’s not like Stiles knew for sure how he really feels to be forced to touch Derek. Derek’s looks were easy on the eyes, as anyone with eyes can tell, and maybe if Stiles didn’t know him and met him one night at The Jungle, he would probably try flirting, and failing miserably, with Derek. 

But the thing is, Stiles did know Derek. And he knew that Derek had serious trust issues. He avoided thinking of all the things that Derek went through, but it was hard. This whole love potion situation was Stiles’ fault, after all. 

Maybe that was why Stiles didn’t feel comfortable with touching Derek all the time. Derek wasn’t in control of his actions and some of his feelings. Derek couldn’t even trust in his own body, since the potion was forcing his body to betray him. And this love potion was giving Stiles some heavy feelings about consent. 

It was only after Stiles stopped hearing anything for a few seconds that he realized that Derek and Deaton had stopped talking. The two men were looking at him, clearly waiting for something, but Stiles didn’t know for what. 

“What—“ He began hesitantly. He didn’t know how to finish. 

Deaton gave him a reproaching look that Stiles did not appreciate. “Stiles, please pay attention since it is up to you to help Derek.” He chastised. “I said now that you know better than to think that there’s only physical affection, you should work on verbal affection.” 

It was clear now that Deaton and Derek were waiting for him to say something affectionate to Derek. 

Stiles’ mind blanked. 

He didn’t know what to say. What could he possibly say to Derek? It’s not exactly like Derek doesn’t know his more than satisfactory attributes. 

“Uh, hey there, wolf man.” Stiles tried to say it fondly and affectionately, but he missed the mark. 

It came out too awkward and insincere. Deaton looked like he wanted to palm his own forehead, and Derek looked faintly annoyed at the nickname. 

“Never mind, Stiles. It’s clear that you have to work on non-physical affection.” Deaton said. He turned a pitying look at Derek and patted him consolingly on the shoulder. 

“Now please go figure it out somewhere else. I have my afternoon appointment coming soon.” 

* * *

> “Derek, you’re handsome.” 
> 
> Derek gave a slow blink, but there was no indication that the compliment cured the love potion. 
> 
> Stiles tried again, “Derek, you’re smart. But you’re not smarter than Lydia.” 
> 
> Derek glared at him for a second. He was about to say something, but Stiles cut him off. 
> 
> “Your plans may suck, but I admire your resilience. Even though the world keeps shitting on you—“ Don’t mention the fire or Laura or Peter or the teenagers that Derek turned or—shit. “You just keep on going. You don’t let it defeat you. And you’re strong. I like that about you.” 
> 
> Stiles let a bit of sincerity and honesty seep into his voice. Whatever Stiles may say or complain about in public, Stiles really did think Derek had some admirable qualities. 
> 
> “I…” Derek hesitated. His eyes searched Stiles’ face for something, but Stiles didn’t know what he was looking for. 
> 
> “Thank you, Stiles.” He finished awkwardly. Derek looked away, with an odd look on his face. It took Stiles a moment to realize that Derek was biting his cheek to keep from smiling happily. His cheeks were a bit red too. 
> 
> This made Stiles smile. “You’re welcome, Derek.”

* * *

“Nicknames are affectionate, right?” Stiles thought aloud. He twirled a pencil and leaned back on his chair, looking up at the ceiling. 

He and Derek were back in his room, for what seemed like the hundredth time. Derek was sitting next to him in a chair that Stiles grabbed from the kitchen. They were trying to come up with different ways of expressing affection beyond touching. 

So far, they couldn’t think of any beyond what nicknames and what Lydia already mentioned. Stiles couldn’t think of what to say that wouldn’t come out awkward or insincere. It’s not like Stiles could tell Derek that he thought Derek was a great alpha or that Derek had the most convincing serial-killer vibe or that the sun came out of his ass. Honestly, what could Stiles say to Derek? 

Suddenly Derek’s stomach growled. 

Stiles gave him a funny laugh and slowly asked, “Do you want something to eat, Derek?” It was obvious that Derek was hungry, if his stomach was growling that loudly. 

“Do you still have some microwavable pizza?” Derek asked back. 

Stiles did “still have some microwavable pizza,” but he was planning on saving it for a late night snack when he was going to stay up playing Black Ops 2 with Scott. 

Then Stiles thought of an awesome idea. 

“How about we go out and eat? It’d be like a date.” Stiles suggested. Maybe “going public” could be a sign of affection? Like a public display of affection without an actual display? Other people wouldn’t actually believe that they would be dating, so it’s not like it’d hurt Stiles’ nonexistent reputation. But he would have to come up with some excuse to tell his dad later on if he finds out Stiles had been hanging out with Derek. 

“What?” Derek looked confused. “You mean, a date?” 

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Yes, Derek. A date, like I just said.” 

Derek looked reluctant. “But. We’ve never gone on a date before.” His hand was inching closer to touching Stiles without his knowledge. 

Stiles reached out to grab it and held it tightly with both hands. One of his thumbs rubbed circles onto Derek’s knuckles. “I know that, man. But that doesn’t mean we can’t go on one now. It’d be like our first date.” Even though they weren’t really dating, Stiles thought. 

“But—“ Derek repeated. 

“’But’ nothing, Derek. We’re going out to eat, and that’s a fact.” Stiles said decisively. “Now, what are you in the mood for?” 

Derek still looked hesitant, but he said, “Can we go get some burgers or something?” 

Stiles grinned. “Sure thing, snugglebunny. We can get some curly fries and maybe share a ‘shake.” 

Derek looked a bit stunned, as if the idea of sharing a milkshake with someone never occurred to him before. (He didn’t seem to notice the nickname.) Maybe it was a little too soon to joke about something like that. It’s not like Stiles even tried kissing him yet. 

And maybe he didn’t have to, if a little non-physical affection would stop the effects of the love potion. 

Somehow, Stiles felt a little disappointed at that thought. But it was a good thing, Stiles decided. Kissing Derek under the current situation was a step too far in taking advantage of Derek. 

* * *

> Text from Stiles, 7:56 AM  
>  _Morning honeyboo._  
> 
> Text to Stiles, 7:58 AM  
>  _Morning._
> 
> Text to Stiles, 7:58 AM  
>  _Don’t call me honeyboo._  
> 
> Text from Stiles, 7:59 AM  
>  _You know you love it. My nicknames for you are awesome._  
> 
> Text to Stiles, 8:01 AM  
>  _If by love, you mean hate with the passion of a thousand burning suns, sure. Don’t you have school to get to?_  
> 
> Text from Stiles, 8:07 AM  
>  _Sure do, sweetcheeks. Just wanted to talk to you before I go._
> 
> Text to Stiles, 8:08 AM  
>  _Don’t call me that either._
> 
> Text from Stiles, 8:10  
>  _Aw, baby. Okay. I’ll see you later._  
> 
> Text to Stiles, 8:13 AM  
>  _… Have a nice day, Stiles._  

* * *

Oh god. 

Oh god. Oh god. Ohgodohgodohgod. 

What was Stiles even thinking? How could he even contemplate this? 

Stiles only recently realized that his feelings for Lydia are gone, only after she told him that. And now he was thinking that he’s developing feelings for someone else? 

Feelings for Derek? 

It was a bit like Stockholm Syndrome, considering that Stiles was forced to touch and talk to and simply be with Derek. Derek with his annoyingly perfect body that Stiles wanted to climb like a tree. Derek and his weird-looking eyes whose colors Stiles couldn’t even find a name for. Derek whose sense of humor Stiles was now learning to appreciate. 

Oh god. 

Derek who Stiles was seriously beginning to like in a way that he really shouldn’t like. 

And Derek wasn’t even allowed to have his own feelings about the situation. All because of that stupid love potion that Stiles mistakenly made. 

Fuck. 

There was no way he could legitimately convince himself that kissing Derek and having sex with Derek was not taking advantage of him. 

What was Stiles going to do?

* * *

> Is it weird the way Stiles fell for Derek? Scratch that. Stiles definitely knew that it was weird. It wasn’t like people fell in love with people that they gave a love potion to everyday. Then again, most people couldn’t brew a love potion. 
> 
> Two arms circled around Stiles from behind. Stiles felt Derek’s chest press against his back lazily. “What are you thinking about?” Warm breath tickled his ear, and Stiles blinked. He realized he was holding onto a cooling cup of coffee. 
> 
> He turned his head to the side and kissed Derek’s cheek. “Morning. I was just thinking about how you wooed me by making me woo you.” Stiles joked. 
> 
> Derek gave an agreeable noise as he dropped his head to Stiles’ neck to breathe him in. Then he began peppering Stiles’ neck with kisses. Stiles knew what he was kissing from what Derek told before that Derek loved kissing the moles on the back of Stiles’ neck. 
> 
> Apparently his moles were one of the things that piqued Derek’s interest from the beginning. 
> 
> Stiles tilted his head to the side to give Derek more room. He sighed. “I don’t think I’ve apologized for what I did then, Derek.” 
> 
> Derek paused in his ministrations to say, “You don’t need to apologize.” He turned Stiles around until they were face-to-face. “It was an accident. I knew that from the start. You can’t hide your mischievous look very well, and you didn’t have that look on your face then. You didn’t know what you were doing.” Derek pressed his forehead onto Stiles’, just like he did while under the influence a few years ago. 
> 
> “That doesn’t excuse me.” Stiles sighed again but for a different reason this time. “You shouldn’t forgive me after what I did to you.” 
> 
> “But I do.” Derek gently kissed him. 
> 
> “I know.” Stiles breathed onto Derek’s lips. “It just felt a lot like I was using you. And nothing I did worked.” Stiles felt Derek’s lips turn up into a teasing smile. 
> 
> “Except when you grew so frustrated and angry and then you yelled at me.” 
> 
> “Except for that,” Stiles agreed. “Which, by the way, is the exact opposite of showing you affection.” 
> 
> Derek pulled back, and he still looked teasing. “You don’t call confessing your feelings showing affection?” 
> 
> “That was near the end. And—“ 
> 
> Derek interrupted him. “That wasn’t near the end. That was only the beginning, albeit a very rocky beginning.” 
> 
> Stiles laughed then. “Of course it was rocky. After what you did. I was insecure and depressed for days.” 
> 
> “Well, now that we’re together, you have no reason to be insecure and depressed.” 
> 
> Stiles nodded cheekily. “Yeah, there is that.” 

* * *

“Fuck it. Fuck it all.” Stiles yelled, frustrated. He didn’t even know why he was so angry, but then again, this had been building up for a very long time, since he dosed Derek two months ago. The breakdown from before he figured out nonphysical affection paled in comparison to the outburst that was exploding now. “Goddammit. Nothing we’re doing—nothing I did is fixing things.”

“Stiles, calm—“ 

“Don’t tell me to calm down, Derek. Don’t.” Stiles ranted. “You don’t understand that I’ve been feeling guilty for-fucking-ever for doing what I did to you.” 

“You didn’t mean to, Stiles.” 

“That doesn’t mean shit, Derek. I didn’t even like you then!” Stiles screamed at him. Derek looked hurt, but his expression was quickly replaced with a conflicted one, as if he still wanted to comfort Stiles. Stiles felt sick. “And then you suddenly started to act weird. It turned out that I _poisoned_ you with a love potion, and the antidote—the fucking _cure_ was to touch you and talk to you and show some goddamn affection. Like I even knew what that is.” 

Derek was going to say something. Probably something about how Stiles was doing a fine job so far, stellar freaking performance. It was something so very love-potion’d-Derek and not normal Derek. 

Stiles didn’t give him the chance. “And you know what the worst part is? The worst—“ Stiles bit off the swear before it could escape him this time. “—part is that I fucking fell for you.” Too late. 

As if the swear was the only problem in what he just said. 

Derek looked shocked. “F—fell?” He stuttered. His face then changed into something unfamiliar, something he hadn’t seen in the weeks they’ve been stuck together. 

Stiles grew more incensed. Derek didn’t seem to believe him. “Yes, Derek. I like you. I like you in that way, the way the potion made _you_ feel about _me_.” There was one way to prove that, and it was going to be something that Stiles never wanted to do. 

It was to kiss Derek, to take advantage of him, to make Derek hate Stiles so much that Derek couldn’t forgive him. 

“The potion—“ Derek began haltingly. 

Stiles cut him off again. “The potion—“ Stiles sneered. “—couldn’t force me to do this the way my feelings would.” Then he leaned forward to press his lips against Derek’s. 

Except he didn’t make it that far. 

There were strong arms pushing Stiles away. “Stiles, stop.” Derek’s face was blank. It was both familiar and not in a way that made Stiles ache. 

It was the look that normal Derek had, before any potion had affected him. This was the way that Derek usually looked at Stiles in the past, instead of the fond, loving one that he sometimes gave Stiles lately. It left Stiles feeling chilled. 

Derek was finally back to normal. 

Stiles was drained of his anger. It was pointless now to feel angry. The only thing he could feel right then was a void growing heavy and hungry in his chest. 

The potion no longer affected Derek, because Stiles just tried to kiss him. Just tried to disgustingly take advantage of Derek, when Derek was not in his right state of mind. 

Stiles made Derek hate him so much, made Derek hate him more than the potion forced Derek to love him, that he overcame the love potion with the force of his hatred. 

“I can’t take this.” Stiles said softly. He couldn’t stand to look at Derek’s face then, so he turned around and left.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. I quit. I hate this fic. It's so bad, compared to how I feel about some of my other works (published and not). Bah. Sorry for the disappointing ending. I'm just so done with this.

Stiles avoided Derek for a week.

* * *

> Stiles left a note on Derek's fridge. He was running late already, but he didn't want Derek to wake up thinking that Stiles had abandoned him.
> 
> _Hey big bad wolf,  
> _ _Sorry I had to run off this morning. Scott texted me about an emergency. I made you some breakfast, and you better eat it. Even a grown werewolf needs to eat. I’ll see you later at my dad’s house.  
> _ _Love,  
> _ _Stiles_  

* * *

His reflection on the mirror was like a zombie, with pasty skin and dark, red-rimmed eyes. His pale and cracked lips looked like they belonged more on a dead body than Stiles’ living one. Even his hair drooped unhappily down. 

Stiles halfheartedly splashed water on his face. 

He certainly felt like a zombie. Everything felt so tiring and pointless lately, for no reason that Stiles could name. The TV shows he once couldn’t stop watching now barely held his attention. The games he’d played against Scott became too boring and repetitive. The curly fries he used to stuff in his mouth by the handfuls now taste as bland as water. 

Stiles didn’t know why. 

Or actually, he didn’t want to believe in the “why.” 

It hardly mattered now, at the end of all this. It would figure that Stiles would lose his chances of touching Derek and being with Derek soon after he discovered his own feelings for Derek. But Stiles just couldn’t do that to Derek under false pretenses. He just couldn’t. 

Stiles knew he was worrying Scott and his dad, who had no idea what was going on in his son’s life. Scott knew about the situation with the love potion and roughly guessed the rest. Stiles could tell that Scott didn’t know what to do with this information, didn’t know how to make Stiles feel better. What could Scott do without really understanding why and how Stiles even fell for Derek? And in spite of Stiles’ ability to talk, Stiles didn’t know how to put his actual feelings into words (and Stiles knows how ironic that is) in order to explain to Scott. 

So, muddled in his feelings as he is, Stiles just went stumbling on through school and his daily routines. He couldn’t stand to face Derek, but avoiding him wasn’t particularly difficult. All Stiles had to do was avoid the loft, the forest, and Derek’s betas. Aside from supernatural emergencies and Stiles’ love potion, there were no reasons for them to actually interact. 

But Scott was watching the entire time, watching Stiles mope and sulk in his room all day after school, and seeing Stiles losing his appetite and attention. And Scott, well, Scott had had enough. 

When the bell rang after the last class on the sixth day after—just after, Stiles stayed in his seat while waiting for everyone else to pack up first. Scott and Isaac shared a look, and they both crowded around Stiles’ desk in unison. 

“Stiles, we’re staging an intervention.” Scott said steadily, as if rehearsed. 

Stiles slowly tilted his head back to look at them. “An intervention? For what? I don’t need an intervention.” 

Isaac rolled his eyes and said, “Clearly you’re wrong, or we wouldn’t be here doing this.” 

Stiles didn’t even bother glaring at him for that, but Scott, overprotective, certainly did. 

“C’mon Stiles,” Scott gently pushed. “You can’t act like nothing happened. I know, alright? I know.” 

“You don’t know anything.” Stiles said emotionlessly. He was wrung out from his feelings, especially after the multiple breakdowns of hopelessness in front of Derek. And he didn’t feel like explaining to Scott that one of his breakdowns caused him to simultaneously confess his feelings and make Derek hate him. 

Scott wouldn’t know that. Stiles was sure that Derek wouldn’t go around talking and blabbing about what he did. 

“And _you_ don’t know everything.” Isaac said. “You haven’t seen Derek lately. I have, and it’s not pretty. He—“ 

“Isaac!” Scott shushed. “That isn’t helping right now.” 

“No, no, go on. What were you going to say?” Stiles asked. “What’s wrong with Derek?” 

Isaac did not look at Scott when he continued. “He’s been wandering around the loft, staring into space, pacing back and forth.” Isaac hesitated. “Sometimes he grabs one of your shirts that you leave over and just holds it. He doesn’t even try to smell it.” Not like he used to. 

Stiles didn’t know what to say. 

“It can’t go on like this, Stiles.” Scott said. “It hurts to see you like this. It’s hurting _you_ , and it’s hurting Derek. Whatever went on, surely you guys can talk about it.” He looked hopefully and earnestly at Stiles. 

“I can’t.” Stiles said softly. 

“You have to.” Scott said back, equally softly. “For both your safe and Derek’s.”

* * *

> Derek pressed a small kiss onto Stiles’ cheek. “Wake up, Stiles.” 
> 
> “F’ve m’re minutes, an’ I’ll l’ve you fore’er.” Stiles mumbled sleepily. 
> 
> Derek kissed Stiles’ eyelids. “You already love me forever, silly.” 
> 
> Stiles nodded lazily and continued sleeping. 

* * *

Stiles drove home. He wasn’t going to look for Derek, no matter what Scott or Isaac have to say about it. If Derek missed Stiles or whatever Isaac was implying, he would come looking for Stiles instead of just mope around. 

Stiles already made his feelings clear to Derek, and Derek didn’t return them. Simple as that. 

After doing his homework as much as he could do, Stiles decided to turn in for the night. It was a bit early, but Stiles didn’t have anything better to do. It was going to be a long night, and Stiles’ sleep was fitful but dreamless for the few hours he could sleep. He was grateful that he didn’t have any nightmares about people leaving him. 

Something woke him up though. It was mostly dark when he slowly opened his eyes, but there was a bit of moonlight sneaking in through the window. Stiles blinked. 

The window was open, but Stiles was pretty sure that he closed it before he went to sleep. The chill must have woken him up. 

Stiles sighed and got up. He was hopping a bit, feeling too cold in only a thin t-shirt and a pair of nondescript boxers. He stared out the window for a second, watching the way the wind shook a tree’s branches. There was something strange in the way the branches moved. Then a breeze drifted into the room, hitting him with all of its cool breath. 

After he closed the window, he rubbed his arms and looked around his room. He froze. 

That was when he spotted the note on his desk. He hesitatingly approached it, knowing who wrote it. There was only one person that would write a note for him and put it in his room in the middle of the night without waking him up. Anyone else would have just texted him, and his dad would have merely left a note on the kitchen table. 

The note must have been from Derek. 

Stiles cautiously picked up the paper, almost as if it was going to bite him. Knowing about magic, Stiles wouldn’t doubt that was a very real possibility, but hopefully Derek didn’t know it and wouldn’t use it on Stiles. He slowly read it, not quite taking in the words at first. 

_Stiles  
We need to talk. Meet me at the old house after school tomorrow. Don’t tell any of the others.  
_ _Derek_  

Stiles realized his hands were shaking when he saw the paper trembling. He tightened his grip, crinkling the paper. 

He felt a silent scream building in the back of his throat. He was trying to give Derek space, after being forced to be together for so long. He felt a bit angry that Derek wasn’t going to do the same and let Stiles bury this event in the far reaches of his brain. But he swallowed down that anger, because it wasn’t fair on Derek. 

Stiles folded the note and hid it below his pillow. He didn’t crawl back into bed however, because he already knew he wasn’t going to get any more sleep that night. 

He was going to silently wonder what’s going to happen tomorrow, imagining all the worst scenarios possible, secretly hoping none will come to pass.  

* * *

The drive up the road to the old Hale house was slow, not because the ground was rough with dirt and random forest debris, but because Stiles was trying to put the talk off as much as possible. 

As much as he wished it otherwise, he soon approached the burnt building. Stiles killed the engine when Derek walked out of the house. He looked a bit out of sorts, with stubble growing in more determinedly and dark circles under his eyes. 

“Come in.” He said, loud enough for Stiles to hear in the car, and walked right back inside. 

Stiles hesitated, feeling apprehensive. What if Derek wanting to meet him here at the burnt out, dying house was a metaphor for their acquaintance-friendship-relationship-thing about to crash and burn? 

No, Derek wouldn’t do that. He would tell Stiles flat-out if he never wanted to see Stiles again, right?

Stiles shook off the thought and unbuckled the seatbelt. Only one way to find out. 

When Stiles pushed open the door, Derek was standing in front of the stairs, looking up at something Stiles couldn’t see. 

“Derek—“ Stiles began. 

“I’ve been thinking, these last few days.” 

Stiles cut himself off, waiting for Derek. 

Derek continued, “About how I felt like I had no control over myself in the beginning.” Stiles winced, but Derek didn’t see. He was still staring off into space. “I thought it felt a bit like when I lost… people, the way I had no power in stopping things.” 

He turned to face Stiles then. “But then… I think I got used to it. The touching, the freedom and comfort of it. The fact that it didn’t needed much thinking. It didn’t cause much harm.” 

Stiles wondered if _he_ caused much harm to Derek.

“I think I almost accepted the situation—that you were going to touch me and I you for the rest of our lives. Like the potion didn’t even matter anymore. But then you—“ He paused. His hand had lifted in the middle of him talking, reaching out to Stiles. Derek pulled his hand back down, and Stiles tried not to react. “You fixed it. Like I knew you would.” 

“By trying to kiss you.” Stiles whispered harshly, wishing he’d never done so. 

Derek gave a single nod and said, “Yes. That, and you said you liked—that you _fell_ for me.” 

Stiles breathed out slowly. “I said that, yes, because it’s true. After being with you for so long, I began to see more sides of you than the ones you showed Scott and me before. I liked the Derek that I saw. The one that liked hugs and cuddles. The one that doesn’t mind me eating all the curly fries. The one that—“ 

Derek interrupted. “But that’s not really me. The one you’ve been seeing is a version of me that was under a love potion. You don’t actually like me.” He put up a hand to forestall Stiles from talking. “You can be sure of your feelings. I’m not denying that, since the potion probably didn’t allow any less than that in order to stop. It was probably why it never stopped before, because all the touches and affection was meaningless without any actual feeling. But you don’t _actually_ love me. Not really, it’s impossible.” 

It was the most Derek ever said to him, and if it were under different circumstances, Stiles would be jokingly congratulating him. But right now, Stiles was barely holding himself together to hold this conversation. 

“Derek, how can you even doubt my feelings? What we’ve been doing, the way I’ve been acting—it isn’t something a person can fake.” Stiles scrunched up his face at a thought and said, “Okay, so maybe someone can—but not for a long time, not without it meaning something.” He looked steadily into Derek’s eyes. “Look, sometimes, if it goes on long enough, a person can develop some—some _feelings_. Some real, honest-to-God feelings.” 

Derek didn’t say anything. 

Stiles barreled on. “I mean, it’s like we’ve been dating! You’ve been my boyfriend, and I’ve been your, your—I don’t know. I’ve just been _yours_ somehow, okay? It doesn’t matter if it wasn’t the real you. You were real enough for me.” 

Derek didn’t say anything. Maybe he couldn’t say anything, because Stiles suddenly dropped the bomb on him like that. 

“Derek, please say something.” Stiles pleaded. 

“I want the comfort of touch.” Derek admitted. “But I don’t know how to act around you right now. My head is still confused. You still smell like me, and it’s messing up my instincts.” 

“That’s why I’ve been trying to give you space.” The words popped out of his mouth without permission. “I didn’t want to push you.” 

“I don’t want to be with you—” 

Stiles couldn’t breathe for a second. 

“—only for you to leave me when you realize I’m not the person you thought I was.” Derek said. 

“That’s—“ not going to happen, but Stiles couldn’t finish that sentence with any real confidence. 

“I don’t think going on like this is any way for us to resolve the problem though. It obviously hasn’t worked for either of us.” Derek said for him. Stiles could tell that Derek was looking at the bruises under his eyes, the same way Stiles was looking at Derek’s. 

“Then what do you think we should do?” Stiles asked tiredly. 

Derek looked a little unnerved then. “I need to figure out how I feel about you. I need you to figure out how much you really know about me to like me.” 

Stiles too felt a bit scared but also edging toward cautiously hopeful. “What do you mean? What do you want us to do?” 

“Like you said, we were already acting like boyfriends.” Derek said the word “boyfriend” like it was something distasteful he found under his shoe. 

Stiles had to resist a hysterical laugh. “You’re joking, right?” 

Derek frowned at him. “I wasn’t joking.” 

“You want us to continue acting like boyfriends, like nothing happened?” Stiles asked incredulously. 

“Then what do you suggest we do?” Derek retorted petulantly. 

Stiles couldn’t answer. The truth was, he did want nothing more than to continue pretending they were a happy couple. But knowing that Derek didn’t feel the same way that he did, Stiles couldn’t do that. Something did happen, and they weren’t boyfriends. 

But Derek was right. Going on like this wasn’t going to work. Maybe this way, Derek can learn to like Stiles, like the way Stiles came to like Derek. 

“Let’s not put labels on ourselves.” Stiles suggested weakly. 

“’Boyfriend’ is too juvenile.” Derek agreed. 

“No, that’s not what I meant.” Stiles said. “We could just try casually dating. I can try to woo you, and you can decide if I’m successfully wooing you or not. So you don’t have to tie yourself to me unnecessarily.” 

“I can’t believe you’re using the word ‘woo.’” Derek said, ignoring everything else Stiles said. They both shared a laugh at that, and it took Stiles back to happier moments of them together. For a second, Stiles could really pretend that nothing happened. But that second ended far sooner than Stiles liked. 

“So?” He asked. 

“Fine. We can be not-boyfriends or whatever.” Derek said. “Just… don’t see anybody else.” 

After spending so much time with him, Stiles clearly left a mark on Derek’s psyche. “Not-boyfriends” seemed like more like something Stiles would say instead of Derek. 

“Nobody else to see. I told you, you’re the one I like, and that’s something that’s not likely to change anytime soon.” Stiles was glad that Derek was giving him at least that much. If it were the other way around, Stiles wasn’t so sure that he would be so forgiving. 

“I—okay.” Derek said. He looked lost then, as if he didn’t know what to say or do now that they’ve had their talk. 

Stiles tried smiling at him, but he was pretty sure it turned out to be a grimace. But he was honestly relieved, optimistically happy, and a bit emotionally exhausted right then. “Okay,” he repeated. 

“Okay.” Derek said again, weakly smiling back at Stiles. 

* * *

> Stiles looked over the dinner table carefully. His mom’s fine china for special occasions was laid out carefully on the table. The flowers were nice, and Stiles hoped Derek would appreciate them, even though he knew neither of them knew much about flowers. The candles were a bit misaligned, so he fixed them a bit. 
> 
> Finally everything looked perfect. Stiles nodded nervously to himself and considered if giving himself a pat on the back was too self-congratulating. 
> 
> Stiles tapped his pocket to make sure the matches were still there, and he looked at the kitchen timer. 
> 
> The food was almost done, and Derek should be getting home soon. 
> 
> Stiles hoped Derek wouldn’t be too exhausted after a day of work for dinner. Today was their anniversary, and Stiles wanted to make sure that the night went perfectly. He wanted Derek to know how much Stiles loved and appreciated him, because Stiles did love and appreciate him so much. He wanted to show Derek that and let him know that Stiles was so very glad and so very grateful that Derek gave him a chance even after the whole fiasco with the love potion. 

* * *

They took things slowly after that. (They weren’t really doing much before that, since every physical affection Stiles gave Derek was above the belt and every verbal affection had no dirty talk or anything sexual.) But somehow, the fact that they now have a label—though Stiles wasn’t sure how much of a label “not-boyfriend” was—changed things. 

Stiles had wanted to let Derek set the pace of their relationship, and it worked for them. 

Stiles hesitated at first in taking Derek’s hands at first, but Derek always firmly, if not confidently, held Stiles’ hand when they went on dates. The waitress at Derek’s favorite diner didn’t even bat an eyelash at them anymore. Derek tried kissing Stiles in front of her to see if they’d get a reaction, but no dice. (Kisses before then were a bit awkward, but after that, they started getting more fun.) 

Stiles didn’t know what Derek was willing to do, and Derek was okay with taking charge every once in a while. He asked Stiles to come over and watch a movie after a week of them not-dating. Derek had ordered Stiles’ favorite pizza, and they ate barbeque chicken wings in front of the television, casually leaning toward each other. 

Stiles said, “I love you,” first, but he also told Derek he didn’t have to say it back. Derek had told him he was an idiot if he couldn’t see how Derek felt about him after so long. Stiles pretended to be really offended, but he knew he didn’t fool Derek. They were both grinning like dorks till their cheeks hurt. 

After a month of them not-dating, Derek asked if it was okay for them to share a bed together, to only sleep. Derek seemed to relax almost instantaneously on Stiles’ bed, as if he had gotten too used to it while under the love potion. Stiles fell asleep first, with Derek holding him comfortably and watching over him. When he woke up, Derek was draped over his back, snoring a bit. If Stiles didn’t mind Derek’s morning breath so much, he would’ve tried kissing him awake. 

Sometime after that (and Stiles had lost count of the weeks after Derek finally met his dad), they just stopped calling their outings not-dates and just called them dates. After making sure that Derek was okay with it, Stiles decided to skip calling them boyfriends and just jump straight to partners. After all they’ve been through together, they’ve definitely passed the relationship status that twelve-year-old boys and girls go through. 

Also, Derek was happier introducing him around as “Stiles Stilinski, my partner” than as “Stiles Stilinski, my boyfriend.”

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://singingharlot.tumblr.com/)


End file.
